


live a little

by symmetrophobic



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, a delightful assortment of other pairings, hp!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 19:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5304530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symmetrophobic/pseuds/symmetrophobic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>a prompt fill for 7fics, asking for markson hp au with jackson as the quidditch captain and mark his much beloved forbidden fruit \o/ hope you'll enjoy huehue</p>
    </blockquote>





	live a little

**Author's Note:**

> a prompt fill for 7fics, asking for markson hp au with jackson as the quidditch captain and mark his much beloved forbidden fruit \o/ hope you'll enjoy huehue

Prior to all this, Jackson thinks he could very comfortably say he was set for life.

Dream school, dream house, captain of the Quidditch team, on the way for some prestigious scholarship, and even his grades weren’t doing too bad ( _shut up, I see you laughing there, Jaebum-hyung_ ). His parents were proud of both their sons and his sister-in-law had just given birth to the cutest fricking little baby girl in the world, who'd already been merrily waving around Jackson's wand and shooting mildly destructive hexes every which way the last time he visited, making Jackson an extremely proud uncle (and public enemy number 1 in their household). Gryffindor even won the House Cup all six years Jackson spent his time here, leading to lots of joke-bragging that he was their lucky charm. Life was pretty much swell, yep.

Then, of course, because nothing in Jackson’s life ever goes that smoothly (Jackson likes to call it a talent _)_ something just had to happen to turn the tables on all that.

*

Youngjae’s excited chatter echoes all the way out on the frozen school grounds, where they’re headed for the lake, to spend some much needed quality bro time together after the Christmas holidays. He’s trying to listen, really, he is, but over the few years he’s known the fifth-year Ravenclaw kid, he’s been lead to the serious conclusion that the boy is physically incapable of _not_ talking, and he’s long learned to tune the incessant stream of words out.

Aforementioned tuning out becomes especially easy when Jackson notices the loud gaggle of green-clad boys heading the opposite direction, but then he feels Jaebum’s warning nudge, and glances back just in time to see the disapproving look on the older boy’s face.

The captain shoots an indignant look back. Head Boy or not, Jaebum totally has no right to police where he _looks_ , for crying out loud. Besides, it isn’t even as if _he's_ going to be-…

One of the boys in the opposite party calls out a (rather poorly executed) insult which does more to make Jackson laugh at his stupidity than rile him up, but it’s too late, and he finds and locks gazes with a particular Slytherin redhead walking nonchalantly amidst the sea of green.

It’s by default that Jackson almost trips then, steadying himself rather comically.

The Slytherin gang promptly bursts into snickers, cruel and triumphant as they carry on walking by, but Jackson’s only looking at one boy, one who’s pinning him with a derisive smirk, and Jackson can almost hear the other’s quiet jibes, feel cold and deceptively slender fingers straightening out his scarf and robes, muttering a soft _you idiot, watch where you’re walking or you’ll fall and break that handsome face._

Jackson almost makes a face at him, _almost_ , but he’s subtly pushed on by Jaebum, and tunes back into Youngjae’s unaffected speech. The younger boy, face almost completely hidden by a large aquamarine and black balaclava and beanie, looks even more animated now, dramatically re-enacting a near death encounter some other Hufflepuff kid in his class had experienced with an ugly venomous plant in Herbology, and laughing at his pitiful stupidity.

It’s easy, then, for Jackson to pretend to listen so he doesn’t have to look at the exasperated glare Jaebum’s sending his way.

*

Yeah, so Jackson (who happened to be in Gryffindor) fell in love with Mark (who happened to be in Slytherin). So what. Sue him. Or, actually not, because then you’d have to get in line after all the other people who’d actually pay good gold to see them fall apart.

It’s weird, how Jackson’d thought he was living life perfectly fine till the pretty-eyed redhead boy he shared Potions and Transfiguration with caught his eye. It’d been a mindless infatuation at first, something Jackson thought was superficial and hormonal and ridiculous ( _because he’s in_ _Slytherin_ , _you moron_ , a voice that sounded a lot like Jaebum liked to remind him in his head constantly), and he’d been all ready to forget it and move on (okay maybe not so ready, but whatever).

But then Jackson started noticing little things about the other boy, like how cute it was when he puffed out his cheeks while working on a hard question, or how his voice sounded like soft chocolate and honey when he was answering teachers’ questions in class, or that time when he had his scarf wrapped up to his nose last Christmas and donned this extremely fluffy viridian beanie so the only parts visible of his face were his large, bright eyes and locks of his red fringe.

Jackson had taken several very painful snowballs to the side of his head in the courtyard during his subtle appreciation of the latter that year.

But the one thing that’d pushed a teetering Jackson off the edge into a rather inviting abyss of forbidden love had been that day he’d rushed into Potions after a rushed Quidditch briefing that’d overrun by a few minutes, puffing and panting, and found himself pushed impatiently to the space beside the object of his accursed affections by the professor after getting points docked for his latecoming.

He could feel the burn of curious and anticipatory glances from several of the other students throughout the class, Slytherin and Gryffindor alike. Students from the two infamously conflicting houses _never_ got put together for anything. They’d probably been expecting some big fight to start up, especially with Jackson as the Quidditch captain and everything. Even Jackson had been tensing for some sort of hostility from the other boy.

But then things had been surprisingly civil. Mark- that was the boy’s name, even lent Jackson his knife when he realised he’d forgotten his without so much as a hint of hesitation, conducting himself with a cool, quiet indifference that contrasted starkly with the sneers and disgust he’d been expecting. They’d gotten along in rather peaceful symbiosis. Every student had left the class that day probably feeling either vaguely relieved or disappointed.

Except for Jackson, of course, who was too busy drowning in euphoria and confusion after the class to notice the discreet, curious looks the other boy had sent his way, before both of them had retreated into the comfortable crowds of green and red respectively. And at that point, though they were still in the same classroom, it was like they’d been thrown miles apart, to opposite sides of a vast ocean of preconceived notions and prejudice.

*

“Can evil and good truly coexist in a single person?” Jackson had quietly asked the darkness in a fit of poetic inspiration that night, and Jaebum had groaned wearily into his pillow from the next bed.

*

“So um,” Jackson asks one evening, when a few of them are gathered outside the library, crunching on almond nuts and Chocolate Frogs, to (try to) finish up their weekend homework. “What do you guys think about those Slytherin kids, really? Do you seriously think they’re all as bad as everyone says?”

“Uh, overlooking the fact that they’re nothing but a bunch of arrogant bullying blockheads?” Youngjae rolls his eyes, biting the head off a Chocolate Frog, from where he’s long finished his History of Magic essay and has started criticising everyone else’s work. “Maybe not, yeah?”

“Why the sudden question?” Bambam, another Ravenclaw fourth-year, in the wizard chess club with Youngjae, raises an eyebrow in Jackson’s direction, sharp eyes seemingly piercing straight through Jackson’s head and out the other side, and Jackson swallows nervously. Some of the Ravenclaw boys and girls honestly freak him out, if nothing else. It’s like they’re psychic sometimes.

“Yeah, what’s with you and this thing about the Slytherins all of a sudden?” Jaebum grumbles over a rather difficult Transfiguration worksheet. “You trying out reverse psychology, or something?”

“Just…curious, y’know,” Jackson shrugs, trying to ignore the way Bambam’s watching him critically, as if he _knows_. Fortunately, he’s saved by a rather oblivious Yugyeom, a fourth-year Hufflepuff Bambam had sort of developed a special soft spot for. Or something.

“Wait…” Yugyeom looks stricken at his worksheet, any prior conversation having gone completely over his head, and Bambam looks over in concern. “Does that mean…if you don’t _touch_ the teapot with your wand-…?”

“We discussed this before, Yugyeom, you need to say the spell and wave the wand and _jab_ ,” Bambam says, rather impatiently. Yugyeom still looks like a lost sheep, and Jackson can’t help but pity the kid a little.

“Wait…you need to say a spell?”

A few seats to his left, Youngjae turns away from Yugyeom so that he can very conspicuously roll his eyes. Bambam’s eyes snap up in irritation and he scowls, before flicking an almond nut in his direction.

“Thanks,” Youngjae replies sweetly, popping the nut in his mouth and crunching, before turning back to Jackson. “Anyway, hyung, about your question, if you want my honest opinion, you’d have to define _bad_ before you ask anything, wouldn’t you? Anyone could be _bad_ ,” he shrugs, nodding over at Bambam. “Bambam could be _bad_ for flicking nuts at innocent people who’ve done nothing to incur his wrath. I could be _bad_ for implying Yugyeom’s got the average mental capacity of a Flobberworm. You could be _bad_ that day after the Hufflepuff match for checking out that redhead Sly-…”

Jackson instinctively flings a Chocolate Frog at him to shut him up, eyes immediately darting nervously to Jaebum, who’s now eyeing him suspiciously, worksheet forgotten.

“What’s with everyone throwing food at me all the time, sheesh,” Youngjae grumbles, unwrapping the Frog and biting into it anyway. “Can’t you people get creative?”

Jaebum clears his throat pointedly, looking from Youngjae to Jackson, while both Bambam and Yugyeom peer on curiously. Youngjae takes it as his cue to look meaningfully at Jackson while he chews on his Frog, and Jackson groans once he realises what that means.

_Stupid Ravenclaw kids and their stupid big brains._

“Fine, I’ll buy you that stupid replacement chess set,” he grumbles, gloomily mulling over the thought of having to laboriously comb through all the shops in Hogsmeade and lose a sizable chunk of his allowance during the next trip, and Youngjae beams, chewing happily.

“Sorry hyung, I don’t know a thing,” he flashes an innocent smile at Jaebum, who scowls half-heartedly at him, then fully at Jackson.

But as Jackson’s sprawled on his four-poster that night, listening to the comforting rhythm of snores from the beds around him, he can’t help but grudgingly admit that Youngjae has a point, regardless of how recklessly it’d been put across.

What _is_ his definition of _bad?_ And more importantly, how would Mark fit in all that?

*

Jackson leans casually against the outside wall of Honeydukes in well-practiced nonchalance now, trying his best to ignore the probably minus six hundred degree snowstorm that’s raging around him now. This doesn’t stop him, however, from winking at a group of girls tottering by in the buffeting gusts of strong wind and causing them to burst into bubbly giggles, before waving back shyly.

He stuffs his hands in his pocket after they’re gone, tugging the flaps of his beanie lower over his head, before scowling into the frigid snow. This is totally unacceptable. After that long pep talk the last time about tardiness, too.

Jackson’s tracing patterns into the snow with his boots out of boredom and considering going into the shop to wait where he won’t freeze his nose off, when he feels a hot gust of breath against his ear, and whips up, glaring into an annoyingly gorgeous smug face.

“Tuan Yi En,” he says, scrunching up his face and surprised when he can actually feel the muscles in his cheeks at all. “This is unforgivable. What the hell kind of two in the afternoon is this? Do you have any idea how long I’ve been out here? Do you actually _want_ a toeless boyfriend?”

“The others wouldn’t get off my back,” Mark pouts, and Jackson once again feels inexplicably inclined to forgive and forget completely. “Took me longer to shake them off at the Joke Shop,” his eyes take on a more worried hue now. “I think they’re starting to suspect, Jackson. Seunghoon especially, he-…”

“Hey, baby, none of that now, we can worry about that later,” Jackson flaps a hand carelessly, or tries to, anyway, because his joints have all frozen over. “It’s _us_ time now. I don’t wanna hear nothing about all your other guys.”

“ _My_ other guys,” Mark laughs, and Jackson’s relieved to see that the worry’s been shelved, at least. They barely get any time together, and he’s intent on making every moment count. “Jealous already? We’re barely four months into this, you don’t think you’re taking it a little too fast?”

“Well of course,” Jackson pretends to be affronted as he arranges the scarf wrapped around Mark’s face, tugging the beanie down a little lower to protect the older boy’s ears from the chill. “Seeing my guy with all these strange boys every day? How can a dude _not_ be jealous?”

“Speak for yourself,” Mark takes his turn carefully rearranging Jackson’s scarf, with considerably more gentleness than Jackson’d used, but with no less affection. Though his words are light and sarcastic, Jackson can feel the weight of the truth behind them. “You seem awful chummy with that Gryffindor Head Boy every other day.”

“Jaebum-hyung?” Jackson almost laughs. “Naw, you can’t say that man, he’s been like my older brother since I first got here. You’d say the same if you got to know him well enough.”

Mark’s fingers still his in actions suddenly, and Jackson looks up questioningly, squinting through the swirling snow, stunned to see the muted loss that’s appeared out of nowhere in his boyfriend’s large eyes.

“Jackson, I just-…” Mark pauses, before letting out a derisive laugh, one that’s weighed down with sorrow and pain. “I wish I could get to know them. Your friends.”

“Hey, hey,” Jackson reaches up to grab Mark’s hands, staring in concern into the other boy’s eyes. “We…we talked about this, didn’t we?”

“I know, but,” Mark gestures helplessly, frustration bearing down amidst the listless tone in his words. “It’s so _stupid_ , just because I’m in one house and you’re in another then _everyone’s_ judging if we’re within a metre of each other. I can’t get to know your friends, your family, I can’t see you in school so half the time I’m just wondering if you’re with someone else-…”

“Well then you’ll be glad to know you’re not alone,” Jackson announces, wrapping an arm around Mark’s shoulder, surprising the older boy. “Welcome to the Insecure Forbidden Lovers’ Club. Please collect your membership card and Angst Survival Pack from the leader (that’s me) and remember to report for meetings every Saturday evening where we share wartime flashbacks and over-exaggerated kdrama-style grievances.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Mark lets out a breathy laugh, pushing at the younger boy halfheartedly, and Jackson grins, proud that he’s managed to make the other boy smile again. As if for good measure, then, he sends a furtive look down the snow-obscured street, before pressing a fleeting kiss against Mark’s lips.

“C’mon,” he steers them around, gesturing vaguely into the flurry white distance. “What say we get a Butterbeer before we both die of frostbite, then we both go to Honeydukes and pig out.”

“You’re paying,” Mark mutters, flushing a dark red, from the kiss or the cold, Jackson doesn’t know, but he still holds the other boy close anyway, as if being spending as much time in contact as possible now will make up for the time they’ll be apart later. He grins anyway, something swelling his chest when Mark leans over slightly to rest his head on his shoulder for a moment.

“One more year,” he murmurs into the older boy’s hair, and a smile finds its way onto Mark’s face. “One more year, and we’ll be out of here and free to do whatever we want.”

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Mark lets out a bitter laugh. “These years are supposed to be the best of our life, and we’re spending it in fear of the people we’ve sworn to be brothers with.”

Jackson chuckles. “Yeah, but it’s not like they don’t take care of us, though?” his mind flashes back to the pensive looks on Jaebum’s face, the hostility concealed carefully behind indifference on Youngjae’s and Bambam’s ones, and Jackson somehow knows that they _know,_ but they’re just not saying anything. “They’re looking out for us. Just…with imperfect information.”

Mark doesn’t speak after that, and with a pang, Jackson wonders if he’s thinking about his own friends, the Slytherin boys.

He tightens the arm around Mark’s shoulder when he wonders what the boys in his house would do to him if they found out about them.

“You think we’ll last?” Mark asks after a moment’s pause, and something in Jackson hesitates.

“You think we won’t?”

But they’re in the Three Broomsticks already, and split apart instinctively, Mark drifting to the quiet tables in the back that no one ever notices, while Jackson goes to get drinks, mulling the older boy’s odd words in his head.

He never gets to hear his answer.

*

Gryffindor wins Slytherin during the Quidditch season that year.

It’s a windfall- almost as if the team’s trying to make Jackson’s last year as captain one to remember. He’d whooped and done giant happy circles in the air, the thrum of adrenaline in his veins like a bass drum to the hoarse screams of the crowd in the chilly air after their Seeker raised the tiny fluttering gold ball triumphantly, signalling the end of the match. They’d won a landslide victory. The Cup was going to be _theirs_ , Jackson could just feel it. Just that one last match against Ravenclaw, and they’d be through.

He’s on the ground, being lifted up in the air with the other team members and thronged by the massive red crowd that’s gathered on the pitch, when he notices the speck of red hair amongst the green scarves filing out silently, mournfully, almost, stationary and silent.

The unbidden happiness that’s sprung up within him falters for just a second, as he frees himself from a crushing hug, courtesy of Jaebum, to crane his neck and peer over the crowd.

Mark’s already gone.

*

He’s anxiously awaiting the ugly tawny owl that half-attacks him the next morning during breakfast, flapping off once he’s wrestled the letter off its leg, disgruntled. Jaebum is already looking his way disapprovingly over his plate of scrambled eggs and sausages, and Jackson ignores him, leaning away to scan the message quickly.  

Owl mail had long been the only way the two of them could talk without it being obvious, and though Jackson’s grateful for at least some form of communication, it often leaves him in uneasy suspense for the boy’s next letter.

Jackson honestly doesn’t know what he’d been expecting, maybe some congratulations, or a snarky remark about the last match, or something _encouraging_ , at least, but the words he reads next seems to knock the breath right out of his lungs.

_Jackson_

_I think we need to stay apart for a while. We shouldn’t meet during the next Hogsmeade outing. The other seventh-years are starting to suspect. Don’t ask for details, it’s too risky to explain here._

_I don’t know when we can speak again. I think it’ll be for the best if we don’t make contact until stuff blows over._

_Stay safe, okay?_

Jackson rereads the letter twice, disbelief slowly giving way to a slow sickening sensation that spreads from the pit of his stomach to the rest of his body, before looking up, abandoning all thoughts of subtlety, craning his neck to peer over to the Slytherin tables. He catches sight of the redhead amidst a huddle of green, laughing over something one of the other boys had said, before looking up to lift a spoon of cereal to his mouth, and their eyes meet for a second.

There isn’t a flicker of recognition in the boy’s eyes, as though Jackson’s any other Gryffindor boy at the table, and after that brief second that sends Jackson’s head spinning, Mark’s looking back at the other kids at his table, conversing casually, carrying on with life as per perfectly normal.

“We’ve got to get to class,” Jaebum nudges him, and Jackson blinks, watching the boy blankly as he stands. Jaebum frowns after a moment more of Jackson’s stunned silence. “What’s up with you? Lover boy send you life-changing news?”

Jackson swallows, throat suddenly numb, wondering why the words had hit him so hard.

_It’ll only be for a few weeks, right? It’s not like he’s breaking up with you or anything, sheesh. Besides, this is probably for the better, right?_

“ _Blow over”…what’d that mean, though?_

Jackson forces a grin, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Nothing you need to worry about, hyung. What do we have first?”

Jaebum watches him with narrowed eyes as he gets up. “Charms, with the Ravenclaw kids. Let’s go.”

*

The next few weeks pass in what Jackson can only describe as a somewhat muted agony. Mark stays true to his word, and no more letters come for Jackson. His stupid ugly owl doesn’t come over and peck Jackson insistently until he’s attached a return letter, either, so Jackson can only assume Mark isn’t sending him back over.

Jackson sneaks glances over during Potions and Transfiguration, hoping desperately for a sign, a sideways peek or a subtle hand signal, at least, but Mark ignores him perfectly well without making it seem like he’s actually ignoring Jackson. His eyes have this wondrous capability of staring straight through Jackson like he’s a piece of furniture, and by some great work he manages to ensure that he’s never beside Jackson, never too far from him either, as if Jackson really is no different from any other student in the class.

Bitterly, Jackson concludes that he must have been gifted with the ability to do something _really evil_ to get into Slytherin anyway, and this is probably it.

It’s crazy, then, how apart from this, Jackson’s life remains eerily normal. Youngjae continues talking his ears off and Bambam disses everyone within a metre radius, and Yugyeom remains painfully clueless. It’s like nothing’s changed, like no one seems to notice how far Jackson’s life’s been turned inside out and upside down. Like Mark could just vanish right out of his life without further notice.

Like Mark already had.

Jackson wonders what validates the two of them, what he could ever possibly have in black and white to reassure him that Mark and Jackson had ever once existed in tandem, what could record the stolen kisses by the Forest or the hands held tightly in Honeydukes, before he realises that there’s nothing. No gifts, no keys to return, no lovey-dovey couple rings. No friends to tease them, no worried family members asking how the two of them are.

It’s like his heart’s gone, a clean, purposeful void where it’d once been, though according to the world, according to Mark, he’d never given it away.

The thought hurts a lot more than it’s probably supposed to.

*

“Pretty please.”

“No. I can’t believe you’re still asking.”

“Pretty _please_ , hyung, with a Cockroach Cluster on top.”

“ _No._ And why would I want Cockroach Cluster, gross.”

Jackson attempts to leer over at Jaebum from his bed, and is pointedly ignored from where Jaebum’s doing some important Head Boy duty thing in a large evil looking black book. The younger boy eventually gives up, slumping back on his bed. All the other boys are asleep by now, and the only candle still lit is the one between their beds.

“Oh come _on_ , pleaaaase,” Jackson whines, kicking out, not caring that he’s in his final year and probably looks like a three-year-old. “I’ll do anything, just let me borrow your owl for a while, _please?”_

“No,” Jaebum says firmly. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to? You’re going to try and send him a letter, aren’t you?”

Jackson turns red. “…don’t jump to conclusions, hyung, yeesh, you always think so badly of me.”

Jaebum gives him a _look._

“Alright fine!” Jackson throws his hands up in the air, and someone from another bed shushes him in annoyance. “I’m sending him a letter! Sue me! I just need to _talk_ to him, hyung, I swear, I’m going _crazy_!”

“Well that’s kind of the _point_ of “not contacting” each other, if you haven’t noticed,” Jaebum rolls his eyes, jabbing down another number in his book. “You’re not _supposed_ to talk to each other. And it’s probably for the best, too,” Jackson groans at this, and Jaebum ignores him. “The less you see of him, the better.”

When Jackson remains stubbornly mute, Jaebum rolls his eyes.

“Besides, you don’t think it’s any different for him? He’ll probably face a load of heat too, if anyone finds out. And those stupid Slytherins aren’t going to be as nice as _us_ when the secret gets out,” Jaebum rolls his eyes, as though it’s a given.

“You’re missing the _point,_ hyung,” Jackson pouts. He’s prepared for this, though, armed with the secret weapon that had taken three pumpkin pies and two smuggled bottles of Butterbeer apiece to wheedle out of Youngjae and Bambam. “Look, I just need your owl for _one letter._ After that, nothing, okay? I just need some sort of _explanation,_ hyung.”

“Gosh, it’s pointless trying to talk to you about this,” Jaebum flips the page of his book irritably, scribbling down another number, and Jackson goes in for the kill.

“You knew one too, didn’t you?”

“You really-…wait, what?” Jaebum finally turns his full, albeit confused, attention to Jackson. “One what?”

“That Slytherin sixth-year? Black hair, likes to talk quite a bit, the “ _best seeker Slytherin’s seen in decades”_?” Jackson prods cautiously, knowing for sure he’s hit a button when Jaebum’s face darkens, eyes momentarily lost in thought. “What was his name? Park Jinyou-…”

“Drop it,” Jaebum says sharply. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You guys used to be friends before you came to this school, right?” Jackson trudges on relentlessly, determined to carry the conversation through. “Until you got sorted to Gryffindor and he got into Slythe-…”

“I said _drop it,_ ” Jaebum hisses, slamming the book shut, and Jackson backs up for a bit. “Look, if the guy wants you to forget there was ever a thing between the two of you, how about you make things easier for yourself and just do what he says? Because it’s probably for the _best,_ isn’t it?”

He drops the book on the bedside table then, roughly blowing out the candle before pulling the drapes shut, closing out Jackson for good.

Jackson very carefully files that byte of information away under the “For Future Use” section in his head.

*

As the match against Ravenclaw looms closer, Jackson finds himself increasing length and frequency of practice, because there’s a solace in making himself useful somewhere, at least. At least when he’s sending Bludgers flying off in the opposite direction at a hundred miles per hour with a well-placed whack of his bat, he can pretend he’s sending all his pent-up bitterness and emotions flying away with them.

Jackson’s just rounded up practice a few nights before the big match, sending everyone back to the dorms with orders to shower and have an early night, before staying back himself to keep the balls and bats, and close up the room where they’re stored, when he realises it’s stretched a little later than usual. Jackson scrunches up his face at the thought of the long Potions essay waiting for him back at the dorm, and has just started back towards the dorm, broom over his shoulder, when he sees the vague outline of a crowd of figures in the distance, all drawing closer by the second.

His heart sinks when he sees the hints of green amidst the black fabric.

Jackson’s never one to run from a fight, though, (Bambam calls it stupidity, Jackson begs to differ) so he trudges on towards the castle. It must be about the previous match and their spectacular failure against the Gryffindor team, he thinks.

He wears a pleasant smile as he draws near to the crowd, hoping they’ll let him walk right by if he doesn’t pay attention to them. He’s got no such luck. One of them moves right in front of him to cut him off, and the rest fan out around him, wands already out.

Wow. He must’ve done something to really piss them off.

“Before you guys trash me, can I at least know the reason why?” Jackson’s stalling, feeling within his robes for his own wand, relieved when he finds it. Worst come worst, he can do that smoke charm he learned from Youngjae a few weeks back and fly off on his broom before they know what’s going on.

“I can’t believe he still dares to talk like that,” a tall boy with slender eyes and thin lips scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “They’re really all the same.”

“That’s actually a common misconception,” Jackson hopes they haven’t noticed how he’s got his wand out now, concealed in the shadows of his robe in the poor evening light. “Jaebum hyung is in fact a lot naggier than me.”

“We’re not here to beat you up about how you’re an idiot tonight,” another boy Jackson recognises this time, a sixth-year by the name of Song Minho, deadpans, face and voice empty of emotion with the sort of indifference that probably takes years to master. “Though that would probably warrant some serious trashing on any other occasion.”

“Uhm,” Jackson gestures with his free hand, shrugging. “Got any other outstanding parts of me that chafe upon you so? I know I’m attractive as heck but hey man, you gotta hand it to my parents, right?”

The first spell comes like lightning from the boy on his right, and Jackson dodges it, turning to watch as it embeds itself in a tree trunk and leaves it smoking gently.

“He’s insufferable,” the boy’s got cute doe eyes that twist harshly when he snarls, withdrawing his wand. It’s Kim Jinwoo, another seventh-year who looks pretty much like a third-year Hufflepuff until he gets his wand out and hexes your ass off. “I can’t believe he’s the one.”

“Uh, cool,” Jackson comments, though he’s thoroughly confused. “What am I the one for?”

Minho raises an eyebrow, before slowly lifting his wand hand behind his head in the ready position to hex, and Jackson notes the others doing the same, all waiting for the cue. “We hope you won’t take this personally. We’re just protecting our own, yeah?”

Jackson barely has time to think about what that means when six or seven bolts of light are heading for him at once, and he whips out his wand just in time, casting a deflective spell that hardly lives through the impact of the spells, causing him to stagger backwards.

“Ah, shit, he knows how to duel,” the tall boy- Jackson remembers his name now: Seunghoon, another seventh-year, rolls his eyes.

“He’ll just make it interesting, then,” the boy on Jackson’s left, a fifth-year with sad eyebrows and cold eyes says, twirling his wand easily, before raising it above his head again.

Jackson doesn’t catch all of the hexes with the protective spell this time. One of them brushes his side, slicing pain straight through his abdomen that has blood spilling on his robes, and almost doubles over with the shock of agony that comes later. Jackson deflects another wave, but the spell shatters upon impact and he’s sent toppling backwards, body hitting the ground hard.

“Ow, shit,” Jackson mutters, still on the ground, holding his wand up as they close in around him slowly, taking their time with it. He racks his brain trying to find something else to stall with before they hex him to the moon and back. “Shit, can y’all at least explain why you’re doing this? I don’t appreciate getting beat up for nothing, you know.”

“Stay away from Mark-hyung,” Minho finally says when they’ve fully surrounded him, wands pointed easily at him.

That makes Jackson’s jaw drop despite the fact that he’s sprawled out on the ground, blood freezing over in his skin, because _they know?_  

“He doesn’t deserve scum like you,” the boy with the sad eyes adds, voice monotone.

“Taehyun’s right. I don’t know what he sees in you,” Jinwoo scoffs, tugging up the sleeves of his wand hand.

“We’re just making sure you never get the chance to mess with him again,” Minho says, voice almost pleasant, now, raising his wand, and Jackson braces, wand gripped tightly in his hand for one last stand.

He sees the first bright red flash of light, and winces, but the pain, this time, takes an awful long time to come, and he realises after a while that it isn’t coming at all.

The concentric circle around him breaks up into disarray. Another flash of light, and Jackson sees it clearly now- Minho’s wand flies right out of his hand, along with Jinwoo’s.

Jackson strains his neck to look up and possibly sing praises in the direction of his saviour. He’s expecting to see Jaebum, maybe bringing along his prefect posse or a teacher, or Youngjae and Bambam with a couple of prefects, even, but what he sees rockets him into an even greater maelstrom of emotion.

There, running towards the group of them, wand raised to send another disarming spell flying, is Mark.

The group disperses the moment he comes close, as if afraid to touch him, all spreading out further as Mark, furious and panting with his wand raised above his head, comes to stand right in front of Jackson.

“I already said to _all_ of you,” Mark hisses, looking them in the eye, one person to another. “Not to _touch_ him, right?”

“Mark, listen to yourself,” Seunghoon starts, sounding impatient. “This is starting to get a little ridiculous. Are you seriously _defending_ him against us?”

“What do you even see that’s worth protecting in him?” Jinwoo almost spits, glaring venomously behind Mark at Jackson, who pales a little at the sight.

“Hyung, we’ve been over this,” Minho sounds annoyed, but in the weary sort of way that sort of reminds Jackson of the way Jaebum talks to him about Mark. “He’s from _Gryffindor._ Things _never_ turn out right between us and them. The less you see of him, the better, alright? We’re just trying to protect you, hyung.”

“I know what you all mean, I _know_ what you’re trying to say, alright?” Mark’s fists are clenched. “And I _agreed_ to stay away from him as long as none of you tried to hurt him, right?”

“You think he’s capable of keeping up that side of the deal?” Taehyun lets out a soft laugh. “They’re all the same, those Gryffindor brutes. All they know how to do is use their animal instincts. And he’s stupid and incapable of thinking about anyone other than himself, just like the rest of them.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mark seems to calm down on that, breaths evening, though his eyes still burn and his wand is still at the ready. “Leave. Go back, now, and I don’t ever want to see _any_ of you going near him again.”

Jinwoo seems to disagree, and so does Seunghoon, but Minho, after a second’s thought, jerks his head irritably towards the castle, and the rest of them slacken slightly, before turning to return to the castle, shoulders hunched and wands stowed.

Mark seems to wait until they’ve cleared a fair distance from the two of them, before turning and dropping to his knees quickly beside Jackson, eyes wide and fearful, hands trembling when they find Jackson’s and hold on tight.

“Are you hurt?”

“Uh, yeah, you kinda broke my heart,” Jackson gestures pointedly. “I’m going to need you to kiss me better and then explain yourself really good.”

Mark lets out a breathy laugh, crumpling slightly against Jackson’s chest, fingers still tight around Jackson’s hands. He straightens when he feels the damp patch in the fabric, and looks over worriedly, gasping when he peels back a bit of the ripped robes to reveal a gaping slash in Jackson’s side, spurting blood.

“Oh yeah, that too,” Jackson squints. “Oh, it looks kinda bad.”

“Shut up,” Mark says, pulling out his wand, and Jackson barely has the time to ask him what he’s doing when there’s a flash of blue light, and Jackson inhales sharply, drawing his legs up to his chest and gripping Mark’s hand tight.

“ _Ow_?” Jackson says, both indignant and in agony, but he soon realises that while the pain had flared for a few seconds, it’s diminished quickly into nothing but a dull throb. He feels blindly for the spot, only to find a healing scab, blood solidified and skin warm, only to have Mark push his hand away in annoyance.

“Stop it, you’ll reopen it.”

“When did you learn how to be a nurse?” Jackson says in part awe and part annoyance. “That’s like one thing on the list of things you really ought to tell me about. Including this thing about your homicidal friends. That might really help in the future.”

Mark’s shoulders slump, then, and he exhales. “Jackson, I didn’t-…I didn’t think they’d come after you, I’m serious, not after I promised-…”

“Is that why? Is that why you were ignoring me this whole time?” Jackson demands, trying to look Mark in the eye while being horizontal on the ground at the same time. “Damn it Mark, I know I said stuff about us being in a kdrama but I wasn’t _serious,_ we could’ve talked it out, or something, right?”

“I sent you a letter, didn’t I?” Mark looks confused, and Jackson lets out an insulted noise.

“One vague thing about _waiting for stuff to blow over_ and you expect me to wait without further notice indefinitely? I almost went nuts wondering what on earth was going on, you know that? I actually asked _Jaebum-hyung_ for his owl to send you a message, you know, that’s how desperate I was.”

“I’m sorry,” Mark slumps a little, letting out a slow breath, looking so downcast that Jackson actually feels guilty. “I just wanted everything to cool down before trying to contact you again.”

“Did they make it hard on you?” Jackson asks, worried, and Mark shakes his head immediately.

“They were just looking out for me,” Mark mumbles, still holding Jackson’s hand. “They might seem like real shits but they’re just trying to protect the house.”

Jackson blinks, looking up at Mark, before saying the thing he never thought he’d admit.

“They really care about you, though. Hate my guts, but they care about you.”

“Yeah, they really do,” Mark looks guilty, regretful, almost. “I just wish they understood- you know, we’re not all that different,” he looks at Jackson then, letting out a soft breath of laughter. “Jaebum cares about you too, and that little Ravenclaw clique you’ve got following you too. I’m willing to bet they hate me too.”

“I wouldn’t say _hate,_ ” Jackson scrunches up his face. “Jaebum just makes this disappointed old grandpa face whenever he knows I’m thinking about you. And Youngjae and Bambam think I’ve gone nuts.”

“I don’t blame them,” Mark says derisively, and Jackson makes a face at him.

“How could you say such a thing when I’m still hurt,” he says dramatically. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe we should just really break up.”

Mark laughs, rolling his eyes and half-heartedly punching Jackson on the shoulder. “Not you too, now.”

“I love you.”

“And you’re stup-…” Mark freezes in mid insult, lips forming a perfect “o” in surprise at the sudden declaration, and Jackson takes advantage of it to pull him down and press a kiss on his lips.

“Let’s do something other than ignore each other the rest of the time we’re here, okay?” he says, once they’ve separated, and Mark sighs noisily.

“Most of the time, I’m wondering whether I love you or whether I just want to slap you, you know that?”

“That’s the spirit, baby,” Jackson says, grinning, and Mark slaps him.

 

“What are we going to do, though, if we’re not ignoring each other?” Mark asks, as he’s helping Jackson back towards the castle to shower and see if there’s anything left in the Great Hall to eat, and Jackson shrugs.

“I kind of have an idea.”

Mark groans. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

Jackson somehow manages to pat him on the back while still tottering, one arm over Mark’s shoulder. “You know me so well, baby.”

*

Jackson happily walks over to where Jaebum and the others are seated beside the lake the next day, chewing on toast and drinking juice, and Jaebum looks up at the sound of him approaching, eyes worried.

“Hey, what happened yesterday, I heard you got…” Jaebum trails off slowly as Jackson plops down beside Bambam, helping himself to a piece of toast.

Jaebum turns towards the lake and very slowly alternates between deep inhalation and exhalation.

“Yeah, I got into a bit of a rough spot yesterday, but it’s fine now, Mark helped me,” Jackson says around his mouthful of toast.

“Oh, Jackson hyung!” Yugyeom seems to just have noticed his presence, and he looks over, a little awed. “I didn’t know you were in Slytherin!”

“Hey kid,” Jackson gives a wave, before fingering the green and white scarf around his neck. “Oh, this? Nah, Mark and I just decided to switch a couple of things for a while.”

“Does anyone have a paper bag,” Jaebum asks, looking a little desperate.

“Oh shush, hyung,” Youngjae says, picking up his flask of juice to take a sip. “You knew this was bound to happen one day or another.”

“Uh, thanks?” Jackson tries, and Youngjae gives a noncommittal shrug. Bambam leans over to whisper something, and Youngjae grins. Jackson chooses to ignore them for the time being in favour of more important things, which become apparent as Mark sits down right beside him as planned, pressing neatly into his side, a red and gold scarf wrapped around his own neck.

“Hi Mark hyung!” Yugyeom waves cheerfully. “I didn’t know you were in Gryffindor!”

“Nah, Jackson and I just decided to switch a couple of things for the day,” Mark says easily.

“Oh yeah, I never did introduce you guys properly,” Jackson gestures pleasantly to Mark. “Guys, this is Mark, my boyfriend. Mark, the Ravenclaw boys are Youngjae and Bambam, and there’s Yugyeom, whom you already know by some strange means I’m not going to question, and then the hyperventilating one is Jaebum hyung.”

“Hi,” Mark waves. Yugyeom waves back- Bambam’s now looking at Jaebum with some degree of concern and Youngjae doesn’t look bothered at all by the happenings.

“Why am I alive,” Jaebum asks no one in particular, now pinching the bridge of his nose and looking like someone trying very hard not to go into cardiac arrest on the spot.

Jackson looks expectantly at Mark, who turns, gesturing to someone nearer the wooden benches outside the castle.

Before long, Jackson watches another boy in a green scarf, this one with dark hair and pretty eyes whom he’s seen on the Quidditch pitch on the other side several times before, approach, looking vaguely amused. He walks right up behind Jaebum and prods him in the back with the toe of his shoe, and Jackson snorts when Jaebum turns around to almost snap until he sees who it is, and freezes.

Park Jinyoung bends down to press a kiss on Jaebum’s lips, then, before quickly straightening, the flush on his face visible only because of the bright morning sunlight, giving Mark a cheerful thumbs-up, which Mark returns. He then turns, heading off hastily, and Jackson honestly wishes cameras worked on the school grounds, then, because he would’ve loved getting a picture of Jaebum’s face as he watched him leave.

Jackson starts a little as Jaebum gets up roughly, then, and chases the other boy down, before sweeping him into a second kiss, completely ignoring the stares of a group of Gryffindor girls heading out from the castle after breakfast. This one lasts a lot longer.

“Hypocrite,” Jackson grumbles in conclusion, gathering Mark a little closer to his side, smiling when the other boy complies easily. Bambam leans over to Youngjae, a grin on his face.

“Cough up,” he holds out a hand, and Youngjae groans.

“I’ll pay you back at the dorm,” the older boy mumbles.

“You two seriously not just place a bet on the outcome of _that_ ,” Jackson says, jerking a thumb in the vague direction of where Jaebum’s busy breaking every rule he’s ever tried (and failed) to drill into Jackson’s head.

“Oh, hyung,” Youngjae rolls his eyes, while Bambam chuckles. “You don’t want to know what we bet on the outcome of _this._ ”

Jackson makes an affronted noise when he realises Youngjae’s pointing to him and Mark.

“Cool friends,” Mark comments, fingers tightening a little around Jackson’s hand, and Jackson grumbles dissent, leaning back into Mark anyway. He knows how much this moment’s meant to Mark.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Jackson lets out a breathy chuckle, smoothing circles into Mark’s palm with his thumb. “But you will.”

And that’s really all that matters.

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [when i was a young boy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7968556) by [chanyeolanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanyeolanda/pseuds/chanyeolanda)




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